“Since you have nothing better, lie down here
and rest as well as you can. I will seek a bed
at my neighbour’s.”
So saying the shepherd went away. It had now
grown dark.
The young woman lay down on the bed of leaves and
heaved a sigh from her terrified heart. Joseph
looked at her—and looked at her. Lightly
the angel’s wings touched his face.
“Joseph, be not afraid. Lift up your heart
and pray. It is the secret of all eternities,
and you are chosen to be the foster-father of Him
who comes from heaven.”
He looked round him, not knowing whence came these
thoughts, these voices, this wondrous singing.
“You are tired, Joseph, you must sleep,”
said Mary. And when he slumbered peacefully
she prayed in her heart: “I am a poor handmaiden
of the Lord. The will of the Lord be done.”
It is midnight and, wakeful shepherds see a bright
star. A strange star, too; they had never seen
its like before. It sparkled so brightly that
the shepherds’ shadows on the plain were long.
And it is said that they saw other stars approach
it, and at length surround it. And then the new
star threw off white sparks, which flew down earthwards
and stopped in mid-air; and there were children with
white wings and golden hair. And they sang beautiful
words to the honour of God and the good-will of men.
In that selfsame hour a boy brought tidings that a
tall, white-robed youth stood in front of the shepherd
Ishmael’s cave, and that within lay a young
woman on the bed of leaves, an infant at her breast.
And high up in the air they heard singing.
The story quickly spread through the mountains round
Bethlehem. The shepherds who were awake roused
those who slept. Everywhere a delicious tremor
was felt, a sense of mighty wonder. A poor, strange
woman and a naked child! What was the use of
singing? Swaddling clothes and wraps and milk
were what was needed. One brought the fleece
of a slaughtered sheep. Another brought dried
figs and grapes and a skin of red wine. Other
shepherds brought milk and bread and a fat kid; every
one brought something, just as they took tithes to
the officer. An old shepherd came with a patched
bagpipe, and when the bystanders laughed, Ishmael
said: “Do you expect our poor, good Isaac,
to bring David’s golden harp? He gives
what he has, and that’s often worth more than
golden harps.”
When they came down they no longer saw the star or
the angels, but they found the cave, and the father
and the mother and the child. He lay in the
manger on the hay, and the beasts stood round and gazed
at him with their big, melancholy, black eyes.
The shepherd’s pity for the poor people was
so great that no one thought he was doing a good work
for which people would praise him and God would bless
him. No one looked slyly at his neighbour to
see who gave more and who less. Their one feeling
was pity.
